


if the sky were to forget about me someday

by devicing



Series: Idol of the Azure [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M, Prequel, made-up mythology, self-indulgent fic about the GoM as gods bc why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devicing/pseuds/devicing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lights above dance across the writing as Kagami reads. “<i>His tale… a lesson</i>,” he reaches out to trace the characters as he did before, as if some muscle memory will help him recall them. “And something about a… a <i>child</i>?” </p><p>As Kagami’s fingers fall on the last character, a single phrase echoes through him.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Phantom, actually.<i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	if the sky were to forget about me someday

Kagami comes to in a daze. Overcome with panic, his first instinct is to sit forward, but when he attempts to rouse himself the world spins severely. The sudden spike of adrenaline bleeds out of him and he sinks back to the ground with a groan. His head feels as though it’s been stuffed with cotton, and he suddenly registers the feel of a slow trickle of blood down the side of his face. He lifts a hand to tentatively probe at it and hisses as his fingers trail over a large gash split across his forehead. When he blearily attempts to blink his eyes, only the left flutters open, a crust of already dried ichor sealing the other shut. Groaning, he slowly but surely wills his hand to rub away at it, movements sluggish against the ache in his bones. 

When both eyes are clear and he focuses his throbbing head enough to take in his surroundings, his breath catches. On his back, all he can see is the roof of the cave, aglow with scattered pinpricks of phosphorescent light that barely illuminate the surrounding stalactites in an eerily beautiful blue. From where he is sprawled out on the smooth, corroded rock bed, he can just make out the faint outline of the mouth of the tunnel that he must have come falling down in the darkness. Yet, no matter how hard he squints his eyes and concentrates, there is no light at the top. Mind still clouding over his better reasoning, he casually notes that this either means he's been out for the several hours it would have taken to pass into the evening, or that he has fallen quite a bit further than he’d thought. Neither situation is at all comforting. He knows he should think about this more, get a handle on his situation so he can figure out how to get help from Hyuuga and the others, but he’s just so tired. With a haggard sigh that wheezes out of him as his chest twinges in pain, he throws his hand over his eyes and waits.

After what could have been seconds or hours of lying there, Kagami finally clears his head enough to realize he should probably get up and attempt some degree of self-preservation before he bleeds out. He steels himself and hesitantly tests the condition of his right arm then the left, lifting them into the air and twisting them in the dim blue light. With some relief, Kagami finds he can move them both freely with only a little pain and so he slowly levels his arms at his sides and eases himself up into a sitting position. From his new vantage point, the redhead surveys the rest of the cave’s floor. 

At first he experiences an odd sense of vertigo that leaves him dazed. In the darkness, it’s as though he is all of a sudden floating in negative space, as the lights above him are mirrored so perfectly in the ground below his seated perch that the void seems to stretch out forever in front of him. Sense comes to him a moment later as he hears the steady murmur of water and sees the ripples tease the reflection of the glowing lights below him. A river.

Planting his right arm behind himself, he gently cranes his head back to peer further into the darkness. The surface he had tumbled out onto is a small protrusion of limestone that steadily dips down into the much larger underground stream about ten feet in front of him. The stream cascades out from a narrow split in the wall and twists further on into the cave, glowing lights trailing after it into the darkness. It’s beautiful in a way that is almost terrifying, like looking into the gaping mouth of a colossal beast right before it swallows you down 

After tentatively stretching out his legs and finding that the left one has a decent range of movement, he waves his right arm out and, hitting a solid surface, shuffles himself over to it. The large, weathered stalagmite feels cool against his scraped up palms and acts as the perfect leverage to pull himself to his feet, which he does with newfound gusto. 

He regrets the action almost immediately, however, as his right leg threatens to give out on him with the pain that shoots through it like lightning. It leaves him gasping wetly, and the sound echoes eerily off the surrounding walls. Still, he holds onto the smooth rock as tightly as he can, transferring his weight to it and his left leg as he waits for the jarring pain to subside. 

When his eyes stop swimming with startled tears, he glances down to get a better look. It’s with a sudden, abject horror that he realizes that his right leg is twisted severely out of place, foot pointed inward sharply at an almost 45º degree angle. He gulps, blinking his eyes as if it’s just a trick of the light, but no matter how hard he wills it his foot doesn’t magically right itself. Anxiety creeps up his spine, black and frigid as he peers back at the mouth of the tunnel. From what he can see in the limited lighting it climbs upwards at a sharp incline, handholds few and far in between and corroded rock slick with water. 

“Nowhere else to go but forward, huh,” he murmurs to himself, slumping further against the stalagmite. 

It’s a good thing the only feasible path before him is in the water, he supposes. Less pressure on his severely damaged leg as long as the water is deep enough. And the river has to lead somewhere, right? With a defeated sigh, Kagami eases himself down onto his rear—right leg balanced out in front of him as carefully as possible—and scoots along the ground towards the water’s edge. He focuses his eyes on the rippling current, trying to gauge the depth as he moves closer. It’s hard to judge, but the water is burbling out of the wall at a steady enough rate, so it has to be deep enough to float in. Probably. 

As Kagami nears the water’s edge, his fingers drag across some sort of raised edge in the limestone that doesn’t feel natural. Curious, he follows the ridges with the calloused pads of his index finger. They’re characters, he realizes, scrawled across the flat rock in elegant script, stretching from one end of the short riverbank to the other. As he traces them, he tries to search for the words he by all means _should_ know, but it’s been ages since he’s studied formally, and years traveling abroad haven’t helped. 

He mumbles the words he can make out to himself, “ _Here lies… prison…_ something _pale blue_? Then… a _traitor_ and a _name_ …?” His fingers reach an end abruptly, and he slaps the ground around it, searching for something he’s missed, but there’s nothing more.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to know what you’re trying to warn me about if you use such flowery, bullshit language,” Kagami grouses, glaring out into the water as if it will give him an answer.

As much as he tries to cover his building anxiety with anger, even he doesn’t buy it. The water suddenly looks so much more sinister than it did before, and the glow from the ceiling paints shadows that stretch like apparitions across the cold, stone walls. 

“Nowhere else to go but forward,” he murmurs once more, steeling himself as he shuffles past the stone script and slips down to the water’s edge. 

The inky water hits his right foot like a shock of ice, which shouldn’t be as surprising as it is since he’s so far underground. However, it passes through the strings of his sandals and over his swollen ankle like a mother’s touch, gentle and soothing, and soon he can’t even remember how cold it had initially been. With some sense he shucks off his tunic and shawl and stuffs them into his pack to keep them dry for later. Fighting the ache in his body, he lofts the bag above his head as he slowly eases his way further into the water. 

The stream turns out to be about five feet deep at its deepest point, and from what he can tell the rocky bottom has been worn smooth with age. Algae of some kind tickles the toes of his left foot as he uses it to steady himself along. Kagami transfers the pack to one large hand and uses the other to scrub at his face again, washing away the blood trail down his cheeks and clearing out the large gash to the best of his abilities. After the initial discomfort, Kagami finds that his body acclimates quickly to the temperature until the water feels pleasantly cool around his aching muscles. 

Water of a slightly warmer temperature suddenly slides across his right calf and up around his bare stomach. He jerks away from the touch, mistaking the feeling for some creature swimming in the river, but when he looks down all he sees is the dim outline of his own legs, pale in the oddly clear water. The warm sensation seeps into his bones as the current caresses him and slips around his body in soft touches. Another tendril of warmth passes down the underside of his left arm as it skims the surface, treading the water to keep him afloat. Yet another passes across his neck and the cut of his jaw as the river makes a sudden turn.

Strangely enough, it almost feels as though the current is seeking him out. Teasing him. Kagami shakes his head against the thought and tips himself onto his back. He rests his pack on his stomach and watches the pale blue lights dance above him and feels the warm undercurrent brush against his sore back.

“Pale blue… no, _azure_ ,” he murmurs to himself several minutes later, abruptly remembering the word and corresponding characters that had escaped him earlier as the lights twinkle down at him. 

The current suddenly picks up speed beneath him, water lapping at his sides as he fights to keep his bag out of its reach. It’s a moot point, however, as with a rough clap of waves breaking Kagami finds himself suddenly submerged in the inky black water. He waves his arms about and is just able to poke his head up over the choppy water in time to take a long, startled breath before the current sweeps him under again, pulling him down to the river’s floor. The river is growing deeper, and as he loses sight of the sparkling blue lights above the surface he begins to panic. His arms thrash as he attempts to pull himself back towards the light, but he is unable to overpower the strong pull the undercurrent has on him. His limbs fight uselessly against the slow drag of the water and he feels his stomach drop as the urge to breathe in increases. 

It’s only when he stops fighting and allows the warm current to wrap like a blanket around him that he sees where he is heading. The pull of water appears to be dragging him down towards a small underwater tunnel located near the cave floor. The speed of the current abruptly increases, hurtling him towards the narrow opening. Scrunching his eyes together and hoping it’s not the last sight he sees, he pulls his arms in tight and grips the bag in his arms with all of his strength. His pulse floods his ears as his head begins to grow light, cottony as he struggles to conserve the last of his oxygen. The water rushes around him, tunneling Kagami violently as it pulls him through. Bubbles rush across his face and almost startle him into inhaling, but he fights the urge with all that he has.

When he feels the world stop spinning, the first thing he notices through the dark haze that threatens to take over his vision are the lights sparkling once more above his head through the shimmer of the water’s surface. The treacherous current seems to have subsided so he paddles with desperation up towards the light. 

With a watery gasp, he breaches the surface, arms flailing about for a handhold. His hand finds a stone ledge near him, poking a few inches out from the small pool of water, and he clings to it desperately. Minutes go by as he gulps down the fresh air and waits for the black film across his vision to fade. When the ache in his starved lungs finally dissipates, Kagami tosses his sopping pack onto the ledge before throwing his arm onto it to gingerly hoist himself out. 

As he does so, he realizes that despite all of the thrashing about he’d done and the fall he’d taken earlier, his arms don’t hurt nearly as much as they did before. In fact, they feel fantastic comparatively, and he can barely remember the pain he’d been in less than an hour earlier. He pushes himself up and sits down on the limestone, letting his legs dangle in the water, and he is almost bowled over by what he sees. His right foot, while still fairly swollen, has turned outwards again and the swelling has mostly gone down. He tests his luck by rolling his ankle. It smarts quite painfully, but not nearly as badly as before. 

Shaking his head, Kagami wipes the hair from his brow and lets out an incredulous laugh. The area where the large gash had been split across his brow earlier feels completely smooth, as if the cut had never been there at all. “What the hell,” he breathes, leaning back on one hand to steady himself. 

Beneath his fingertips he feels a familiar pattern. He twists his hips and finds the same elegant scrawl from before cast out in front of him, but it’s what lays beyond the words that catches his attention first.

The pool he had emerged from was but the foreground to a large shrine carved out into the cave walls. Several large stalagmites and stalactites curve together to form am enormous tori gate (which can’t possibly be natural) that reaches up to the ceiling a good fifteen feet above him. Past the tori gate is the shrine’s main structure, bold and foreboding in the shadow of the pale blue light.

Kagami feels himself drawn towards it, and the water seems to lap at his feet encouragingly. Before he stands, he stops himself and turns his gaze back to the writing beneath him. Strangely enough, it’s the same warning as before; however, this time the script continues on past where it had ended earlier. He screws his brow together in concentration as he tries to read the somewhat foreign words.

“ _Beware his… tongue_? What does that mean?” He raises an eyebrow dubiously before reading on. “ _Don’t break… bonds that_ , uh, can’t read that… _the land_ … ‘the land’ what?” He uses his free hand to ruffle through his wet hair. “Dammit, I don’t get this at all,” he grumbles, fingers retracing characters over and over to try and remember their meanings.

When he can’t after several minutes of wracking his brain, Kagami throws his fist into his sopping bag in irritation. It squelches wetly in protest. Frustrated, he pushes himself to his feet and limps on his still-painful right leg further into the room. 

There is a path made out of decoratively carved stone leading from the engraving towards the shrine, and he follows it with caution. The tori gate stands menacingly above him, and he almost stops still where he is. Does this have something to do with the warnings? It certainly looks important enough to be threatening, he thinks. His nails bite into his palm as he steels himself and quickly passes beneath it, half expecting something to happen the moment he does. 

Nothing does, not immediately anyway, and he lets out a long sigh of relief. Of course, he was just overreacting. 

He continues walking up the gradually sloping path until it flattens out and splits in the middle around a small purification basin. Above it, the ceiling of the cave slopes upwards in a conical fashion until it opens up into what Kagami can see is a very small sky-light opening to the world above. The pale light from the outside world filters in and illuminates the basin in a perfect circle, and every so often a small droplet of water falls with it. The ripples cast echoes all the way throughout the room. The memory of the tori gate’s haunting aura bids him to stoop down by the basin and go through the usual motions, lest anything bad happen to him. There’s a small ladle to the side, and he scoops up a generous amount of water into it. He carefully pours it over his left hand, then the right. He cups a small portion of water in his left hand once more and gently sips it to rinse his mouth before spitting it out at his feet. No harm in being careful, he muses, as he straightens up and continues down the path. 

At the end of it, about 30 meters away, stands the shrine. The structure is draped so heavily in protective wards and talismans that Kagami can barely see an outline for a door beneath them. There’s a large, gnarled rope that stretches around the perimeter, also adorned in a multitude of wards, that swings back and forth forebodingly, though there is no wind that Kagami can feel. In front of it is a final placard of stone unlike that which forms the rest of the cave. The stone is jet black and shines as if it’s been polished to perfection. The same message he’s seen twice before is once again scrawled across its sleek surface, only this time the writing stands stark white against the dark background. Kagami rolls his eyes and crouches down next to it, catching his own reflection in the marbled stone. The lights above dance across the writing as Kagami reads.

“ _His tale… a lesson,_ ” he reaches out to trace the characters as he did before, as if some muscle memory will help him recall them. “And something about a… _a child_?” 

As Kagami’s fingers fall on the last character, a single phrase echoes through him.

_Phantom, actually_.  

A chill runs through him as the words whisper across his skin and through every nerve of his body. He tries to unravel the coil of tension in his muscles and bolt, tries to pull his hand back from the rock, but he can’t. Frantically, he wills anything in him to react, but nothing will obey him.

Try as he might, his body won’t move: he is completely paralyzed where he stands. 

Ugly, black fear starts to build inside of him as his panicked thoughts begin spiraling around, trapped within the confines of his frozen body. _I can’t move,_ he thinks, dread oozing through him, _gods, I can’t_ ** _move_** _,_ **** _why can’t I move, why can’t Ican’tIcan’tIcan’tjust_ ** _go I_** **_—_ **

He’s drawn back with a start as a slow tendril of warmth trails across his extended index finger. It passes from the stone slab straight into his bones. He realizes with a shock that it’s the same familiar feeling as when he was submerged in the water. Slowly and steadily it traces each knuckle then gently skims over his palm. Just like before, the feeling seeps into him like water diluting through his skin, and while it isn’t unpleasant, not being able to break away from it jump-starts his pulse into an anxious staccato. _No no nonono get out of me get out get outgetout—_

_Please, don’t be alarmed._

Kagami’s breath catches. The same voice he’d heard a moment ago. No that’s not exactly right, since it’s not a voice, per se. He doesn’t really hear it so much as he _feels_ the words pass through him. _Don’t fight me. Please just calm down._

His initial fear immediately bleeds out into white-hot anger and his thoughts mangle together with the words he wants to scream out. _How the hell do you expect me ohgodsthisisn’tright to do_ ** _that_** _right now when you have me letgoletgoletgo trapped in my own body movemovemovewhywon’tImove what even_ ** _are_** _you, you son of a bitch?_

There’s a small breath of a pause before a titter of something runs like gooseflesh across his skin. The sensation shocks him as he abruptly recognizes what it is. Laughter, soft and delicate, but laughter nonetheless.

_How rude,_ the voice echoes mischievously.  

When Kagami makes to snarl he seems to project the feeling of the action in spite of his frozen body. _How the hell else am I supposed to react? What did you_ ** _do_** _to me?_

There’s silence. Then: _I had to keep you from running away. I felt your trepidation and your fear, but I had to talk to you._

_No,_ Kagami thinks furiously. _No, screw that and screw you. Give me back my body, you bastard._

There’s the gentle sound of a tongue clicking before the voice continues. _You’d think I’d be shown some gratitude for helping you out and saving your life._

_Yeah,_ Kagami scoffs. _I’ll get right on that once I’m over the fact that I almost drowned and that everything in my bag is now ruined._

The feeling of soft laughter ghosts across him again. _So ungrateful. I forgot, you humans are so fickle._

You humans. The voice had said it so casually, and in retrospect Kagami should have probably known it from the start, but it catches him off guard regardless. 

When he speaks out again, his voice is quieter, more cautious. _You_ …, Kagami whispers, thinking back on his twisted leg with a shudder. _You were the water. You’re what fixed me up._

_That’s correct._ The warm presence ghosts across his skin lazily as the voice speaks. _I was the water that healed you and the lights that brought you here. The current that led you to me. And I was the vines that tried to break your initial fall, though you were already out of consciousness by then. I can be anything in this cold prison._ A beat passes. _Well, to an extent._

Kagami is stunned. He stands frozen in silence, warm tendrils sweeping across him as he shakily tries to speak. _Just what are you_?

There’s a moment of nothing before his mind blanks out and his vision suddenly fades. The room around him slowly melts to white, empty space that stretches out as far as he can see. In the abyss, a single blue flame hovers before him. His first instinct is to reach out to touch it, and surprisingly he feels himself go through the action with relief, though he notices with a start that it is not his physical body that does so. This is his mind, he realizes, and when he does make to move it’s as if he feels some strange projection of his consciousness reaching out instead. He’s suddenly able to see some form of the specter that has been ghosting through him and that now floats just outside of his grasp.

_Shouldn’t you know that already?_ It murmurs, and the sensation of confused curiosity washes over Kagami. Not his own, but the voice’s.

_Why should I,_ he grouses, tracking the light as it floats around idly, searching him, before coming to a stop in front of him.

_There were ample warnings, and yet you ventured further in in spite of them. Either you are very dense or very obstinate. Perhaps both._

Kagami’s hackles raise and he growls out, _Well your stupid signs had too many obscure characters! I could hardly read a single damn one._

_Unsurprising,_ the voice says nonchalantly as it floats around Kagami’s metaphysical head. It seems to sense Kagami’s slowly boiling rage so it quickly corrects itself. _I apologize, I didn’t mean that as an offense to you. I agree, the wording was needlessly convoluted. Child and phantom_ ** _are_** _very similar characters_ , the voice muses, distractedly.

_Well what_ ** _did_** _you mean, then,_ Kagami spits. 

_That will come, do not worry. But first, I must press the point again. You truly have no idea who or what I am?_

 Kagami is silent for a moment as he reins in his anger. _No_ , he says softly. _Not too surprising, I guess. I’m not from around here_. 

_Yet your accent is perfect._ The same flickering sense of careful inquisitiveness. _You certainly look like you belong here_. 

He doesn’t really want to answer, and he can sense the specter doesn’t really want to pry, but around them the white suddenly fades and comes back to life in color filtered with age. A memory of a woman, hair deep carmine and wild around her, a sharp smile that crinkles up the edges of loving, warm eyes filled with electricity. Her hands cradle his face with rough, calloused fingers as she speaks his name and repeats over and over: I love you I love you I love you my son, my fearsome tiger, don’t you ever forget that. He knows, he’s always known, so why does she tell him this now? Celebration, candles casting glowing shadows across the cobblestones and thatched roofs. Then, the sudden crackle and spark of magic—angry red fire—and streets ablaze, cries echoing across a gold-lit midnight sky. Copper on his tongue and soldiers on the horizon and running, running, so much running. _Don’t go back, don’t let go, we can’t Taiga we can’t. She has to stay_ followed by _I’m sorry, she’s gone_. Foreign lands, new tongues, a father’s hand so big but so fragile on his son’s shoulder before that too fades away into smoke. Then alone, alone, alone… 

The room comes back to white. 

_I used to,_ is all he says, and the specter seems to understand.

_Oh,_ it whispers. _I’m sorry._

Kagami feels the cold weight of sorrow foreign and heavy in his chest, mirroring his own but not completely the same. There’s something more to it: a flash of curiosity, a burning flare of anxiety, sharp fury worn blunt by weariness. He feels the specter before him just as it must feel him. Kagami wants all of a sudden to reach out and draw it in, but that doesn’t make any sense. Wasn’t he mad—furious even—at this thing just moments before? Didn’t he have every right to be? But now, light huddling in on itself, it seemed so honestly broken, tired. _There’s nothing to be sorry about_ , he murmurs. _It was a long time ago and I’m only one of a million other stories like that._

_Yes, I can feel it in you._ The voice is soft, but there’s a bite to it that shivers through Kagami. _Your sorrow, your anger. A powerful desire for vengeance. Frankly, it has left me with so many questions._

_I don’t know if I can answer them,_ Kagami sighs.

_I will start with easy ones then,_ it says, echo a low ripple across the void. _Who is the current Emperor?_  

Kagami blinks. What a weird question to begin with, he thinks. _It’s the 3rd year of Emperor Chihiro’s reign._

_Who was the successor to?_

Kagami pauses, thinking back. _Eiji_.

_Who ruled for how many years?_

Kagami screws up his brow. _Um, 54. Yeah, 54 years._

A hum of contemplation rolls across his skin. _And how long did his predecessor rule?_

_What?_ Kagami sputters. _I don’t know! Like 60 or so? I didn’t really have time for a fancy history education while on the lam and all._

The flame goes silent but flickers sympathetically. _And here I was, calling you rude before when I am no better. I apologize for prying. We can get back to all of that later, but I should answer your questions first._ It suddenly darts over to hover before his face. _However, I must ask you once more to trust me on something._

Curiosity trumps his wariness, so Kagami responds, _What is it?_

A pleasant warmth fills his chest as the flame sparks before him. _I’d like you to let me in. I promise I can help you._

Kagami frowns in confusion, taking a step back in his mind space. _I thought you already were. In me, I mean,_ he grumbles, face scrunching up at his wording. The voice doesn’t seem to notice and carries on.

_It is true that I am here, but I can only do so much in this form._ The lights bobs idly in front of him, and Kagami trails it carefully. _Think of it like this: right now we are waves crashing with the same force but at different times. I simply want us to move in sync. Please._ The flame dances in front of him, holding his gaze as much as a flame can _. I promise there is nothing to be afraid of. I can help you to do so much more_.

Kagami licks his lips anxiously. _You still haven’t answered my question,_ he says, facing the flame head on. _What are you?_

_Let me show you,_ the voice says. The flame sparks and crackles lightly as it waits just within his reach, the blue melting like water in the air, betraying its heat. Kagami can feel it lick at his face, beckoning him in. 

_Okay,_ he says, shuddering nervously as he steels himself. _Okay._  

And he reaches out. 

The world snaps back to him as the lingering feeling of fire burns cold against his fingers and he takes a step forward to grip the stone slab before he falls over. He didn’t realize how eerily quiet the void space in his mind had been until now as he’s suddenly faced with the barrage of noise around him. The burbling of the river sounds like a roaring storm and each droplet of water that falls from the roof echoes loudly across the hall. Everything is so hyper focused it’s overwhelming, but he can’t see or really feel the specter anywhere. Was it done? Had that even been real? His breath comes out ragged and he focuses his gaze down at the characters to ground himself through the moment of sudden vertigo. 

The characters that he can now recognize perfectly. 

The shock hits him like a slap to the face and he fights the slight nausea to scramble up and look it over. He reads through the script, and slowly feels the echo of another, familiar voice reciting it to him.

 

_“Here lies the prison of the former Idol of the Azure, tenebrous as His name, betrayer of His Kin and disgrace to His title. Beware His silver tongue and break not the bonds that chain Him here, lest the lands suffer of His heedlessness and pride once more. Let His tale be but a cautionary lesson and His presence nothing but a phantom of the past,”_ the specter quotes, voice overlapping Kagami’s. The tone is soft, but there’s a sour note that Kagami tastes on the back of his own tongue. 

 

“A phantom…,” he breathes, awestruck, hoping the specter can hear him. “H-How did you do that?”

Sure enough, tingles run over him as another short laugh comes from it. However, instead of the soft echo that seemed to whisper across his skin before, the voice is steel-sharp. _That’s only the beginning of what I can do. And only a fraction of my ability._

“I can imagine,” he mutters, pushing himself away from the stone slab and walking forwards towards the shrine ahead. “Alright, so this whole ‘idol’ thing. You’re some sort of lesser spirit, right?”

There’s a small flicker of something in his chest before the specter speaks. _I’m much more than that._

Kagami snorts, folding his arms as he walks with a casual slouch. “Dodging the question again, huh? You gonna tell me what that means any time soon?”

_I will, and I will tell you everything else, but might we make a deal first?_

That catches Kagami off guard. He straightens up, matching the sudden seriousness in the specter’s voice as he walks. “What kind of deal,” he says carefully.

The specter hums, contemplating its answer. _I can see scattered fragments of your memories here. I feel the pain and suffering you have kept inside of you and I want to know more about it. I want to_ ** _help_** _you, and I_ ** _can_** _help you, if you’ll only let me._

“Is that your ‘silver tongue’ speaking,” Kagami drawls, quoting the script from before.

A ripple of demure laughter brushes across his skin. _Perhaps._

A small smile tugs at Kagami’s lips, but he presses on. “But isn’t that what you’re already doing? Lending me your power, helping me…,” he says, slowly making his way around the perimeter of the barrier. He lets his fingers trail over the worn straw as he goes.“You said so yourself, this is only a small bit of what you can do.

_Yes, but my influence only stands within this cage of a cave._ Kagami feels a sudden flicker of anger burst from his chest until it simmers out into a controlled murmur. _My prison._

“Why?” Kagami thinks back to the black slab and the words written upon it. “I mean, why are you even here in the first place? The warning talked about you ‘betraying your kin’ and ‘destroying the lands’ and all that, and frankly I’m not sure I really want to be making deals with that kind of spirit.” 

Heat begins to form in Kagami’s chest, a slow burn but an uncomfortable feeling nonetheless. 

It builds as the specter speaks in a slow, calculated calm that is more eerie than comforting. _I am many things, but that… that was_ ** _never_** _me._

Words begin to echo in Kagami’s head. _Lies. Slander. Betrayal._ _A scapegoat._ He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “Well then what _are_ you? And why won’t you just give me a straight answer?”

_You’re starting to put together the pieces. I can tell, but you are lacking in valuable information. You_ **_have_ ** _heard the legends concerning me, I assure you. But I can see now that you know nothing of the reality behind them, do you?_

The more the spirit speaks, the more the fire seems to grow inside of him. Kagami shoves the thought aside and keeps on. “Wait, _what_ legends? What are you _talking_ about? I read over your slab and everything but it’s not ringing any bells.” Kagami’s hand comes up to grip at the fabric above his heart as it begins to twinge painfully. He shouldn’t be prying, but he’s so _curious_. He has to know, he thinks, gritting his teeth. “I mean, I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard of an ‘Idol of the Azure’ or whatever they called you.”

The voice laughs derisively, a shudder across the back of Kagami’s neck, and the flame in his chest burns slowly outwards as he speaks. _No, of course not. Of course no one knows. No one knows anything, do they?_

The heat builds and builds, causing Kagami to breathe haggardly as he comes to a stop in front of the shrine’s main entrance. His hand clenches around the rope barrier and the paper wards crumple under his fingers. “What are we supposed to know,” he gasps out, exasperated, legs going weak beneath him but he holds himself steady.

_Do you know what became of me?_ The voice echoes in his head, drowning out the other sounds in the cave. Its carefully built façade of composure cracks at the edges and starts to break apart. _Do you know what I tried to do? Do you know what I sacrificed for all of you?_

“I would if you’d just tell me,” Kagami roars in challenge. As if matching his tone, the voice echoes back. 

_Do you know what they DID to me?_

A sudden flare of white-hot fury licks up from the back of Kagami’s spine along his neck until it splits his head open. He thinks he screams out in shock but he can’t hear anything over the sudden flood of foreign memories.

 

He’s a child, only eleven years old, and it’s sundown. He’s the last in line and the six children before him glance around like anxious rabbits. His hands bunch up the ornate fabric around his waist and he itches to wipe away the heavy paint caked on his face, but his mother holds his wrists tightly and buries her own face in his small chest. She weeps and weeps and he doesn’t know why, but he cries silently along with her. A crowd gathers and drums pound mercilessly in the growing darkness and his head, his _head,_ it’s splitting open and he doesn’t understand what’s happening. He catches Shigehiro’s gaze in the crowd and he looks so sad as he clutches at his father’s hand. His own hand grips the ougi fan Shigehiro had given him with newfound anxiety. He wants so desperately to play with his friend, he wants to know what is happening, but the priest clamps a hand on his shoulder and beckons him forward. The night is coming and the knife flashes threateningly in the firelight and—

 

Their mothers are gone. Their fathers are gone. Siblings, nieces, nephews, countless generations of their bloodlines gone, gone, gone. Shigehiro is also gone. It frightens him that he hardly remembers their faces, he made such an effort to care but time is so very long and mortal life so precious, fleeting. He stares through treetops almost as old as he is and hides from the children running about below him. He’s always had a soft spot for children. Children are sincere; they don’t know the problems in the world, and they don’t know how to ask for things bigger, more dangerous than themselves. But they age and they learn, he knows, so he indulges in bringing small miracles into their lives while they are still so bright-eyed and innocent. The ones with stronger auras sense him immediately and call out to him. He draws deeper shadows across the sun-scorched earth and spins up a light breeze around them that causes persimmons to fall gently into their outstretched hands. Amidst the sound of their bewilderment and laughter, he hears a twig snap behind him and sighs. The other’s gaze is sharp—green eyes gleaming—while his mouth is pursed in a hard, thin line. His companion disapproves of his excursions, but he won’t say anything about them. This one is only the messenger, so he carefully picks himself up and dutifully follows after—

 

No longer exactly human, their appearances change to reflect the ethereal nature of their existence. Rays of light in various wavelengths, various colors to match a spectrum that still evades common human comprehension of the times. But they’re learning. He spends years and years watching humanity build its wealth of knowledge bit by bit, and it fascinates him how tenacious they can be when something lies just outside the reach of their understanding. Still, the bright blue is shocking, as are the curious contrasts of tyrian purple and wheat gold where there once was homogenous shades of black and dark brown. And isn't it curious that out of all of them, ceremonial names falling directly in sync with their hues, that his is the one to make an ironic black sheep out of him—

 

There’s a girl, hair so pale it seems to glow cherry-blossom pink in the early spring sunrises that she spends beside the two of them. Her laugh is as delicate as her condition, even though her aura bursts out of her like rays of sunshine against their skin. He loves her, he thinks, and by the way his friend’s dark cobalt eyes go soft when he sees her, he supposes the same goes for him. She’s barely fourteen but already her life seems so ephemeral, like countless others. In the middle of the night as they watch over her sleeping form, his companion fiercely vows to find some way to save her and keep her, and he finds he feels similarly. But his friend is so singularly focused, so protective of _only_ her, and that worries him. There are so many others that deserve their help, but no, for him it’s only her… only her. But then, they’re all finding ways to cope with the pain of immortality. Yet, no matter how hard he tries to convince them to not give up, to focus on the small things they can provide, he feels every one of his companions slipping through his fingers while—

 

Fire, fire everywhere, and he’s choking on the ash and the smell of burning flesh. It lashes at his skin as he tracks his eyes across the land. The earth has been torn asunder as far as he can see, but he has to continue, he _has_ to keep going. Everything is in ruin and there are human bodies strewn across the scorched pavilion and he has _nothing_ left. This is his fault, his _fault_ , and he has to _fix_ everything, do _something_ before it’s too late for him to save—

 

He comes to in darkness, arms bound at his sides, legs folded beneath him, and mind groggy. The stone below his forehead where he is forcibly tied down in a bow feels cool against his burnt skin and he screws his eyes shut against the pain that engulfs him. It’s been so _long_ since he’s felt pain this strong, and it leaves him writhing and gasping weakly.When he opens his eyes again and lifts his head as far as he can, he can make out a foot beside him, swarthy and adorned in golden anklets that clink lightly as it bounces up and down. He tries to catch the other’s eye to bring his dearest friend back to him, but the other’s gaze is hard and resolute, staring blankly at the cave walls around them. _Please_ , he begs his friend as the earth below him stretches up and engulfs his legs up to the knee. _You all have to stop this,_ he chokes out while another wave of earth crawls up his arms before petrifying into stone. _Locking me away like this won’t solve anything and will only bring so much more chaos and destruction, you know that!_ Another slither of stone closes around his torso, up over his shoulders, and he looks up pleadingly into the face of his oldest friend. _You have to believe me, please!_ Cobalt eyes finally sweep down to catch his gaze and they’re brimming with so much anger, pain, but most importantly **betrayal**. _Please, don’t leave me,_ he whimpers, but the other man is already leaving, the soft clink of each footstep echoing into the distance. Sobs wrack his body within his stone tomb and he feels a shadow pass over him. The earth slowly crawls up the side of his neck and over his face, and the last thing he sees is the flash of a dangerous golden eye as he hears their leader begin to read out, voice detached. _Here lies the prison of the former Idol of the Azure, tenebrous as His name, betrayer of His Kin and disgrace to His title…_

 

Kagami snaps back to reality abruptly and collapses to the ground, gasping on the air for the second time that day. The flame in his chest has burnt out and his form shakes violently in the absence of such an intense fire as he retches and coughs. The specter’s presence is back to a low, warm simmer inside of him. He can feel its façade of indifference shakily slip back into place as it waits for Kagami to recover. 

No, not simply a specter anymore. A phantom, a spirit, a _god_. One of _the_ Gods. 

“The Emperors of Light,” he chokes out around each haggard breath. “Children born of Miracles.”

_Yes_ , the phantom within him murmurs.

“You. You’re one of them,” he pants, reality sinking into him. “You’re one of those bastards,” he growls.

_Yes, I was._

Kagami is quivering uncontrollably, out of both exhaustion and unbridled rage. He pushes himself up on shaky arms. “Then, _shit_ , was this all a lie? A ploy to get something out of me? All that crap you said before, about wanting to _help_ me.” Anger boils out of him. “How the hell can you help me when you’re part of the reason everything’s going to shit out there!” He gestures one arm wildly at the ray of sunlight filtering in from the skylight above them. His voice thunders across the empty cavern.

_You and I both know that’s not entirely true_ , the voice says quietly, and Kagami feels a small void grow within his chest, as if the spirit is physically curling in on itself into nothing. The physical feeling of shame, regret. _I apologize. I didn’t mean for those memories to spill out all at once the way they did._

He’s still angry, furious even, but he takes a few calming breaths as he tries to will the tension in his muscles to melt away. “The other Emperors… it was them who locked you away, right?”

The presence within him is silent, spiraling in its own remorse. Kagami frowns. “No don’t you dare give me that,” he bites out. “I deserve answers.”

_Yes. I know you do._ It sighs, and the black hole within him steadily curls back outwards. _And yes, you’re right. My companions, they locked me away._

“You betrayed them.”

_Yes_. 

“How?”

_Our ways of thinking came into conflict._ It says plainly, hiding its emotions behind blunt statements. _We had a disagreement, and my actions to try to set my companions straight again proved futile. As a result, I did cause a great deal of chaos, and even now I feel the guilt as if it were fresh on my mind._

“What kind of conflict?”

There’s a subdued whisper of sad laughter. _How much time do you have to listen?_

“With this?” He slowly rotates his right leg out in front of him. “I’d say a pretty long time.”

The phantom doesn’t react. Kagami can feel it stirring within him, nervous and ashamed, but he waits. He waits and listens to the occasional plunk of water in the basin below. Eventually, he feels it return to the surface of his consciousness.

_I will try to explain everything as succinctly as I can. But please, bear with me until the end._

Kagami nods slowly. The phantom begins.

 

_Before I was trapped here, I was indeed one of the Emperors of Light. We were six spirits, born from the blood of humans to take over for the primordial gods that came before us. All the things on this earth have an aura, you know, a parallel presence within the spiritual realm that grants life and power. No aura is the same, some strong enough to have physical forms and capabilities, but sometimes these auras can become entangled, grow chaotic, and throw everything off balance. We were brought into spiritual existence to provide protection, good fortune, and peace in the wake of the god of old whose powers were waning. Six of us, merely children, suddenly thrust into responsibilities far greater than our understanding._

_It was thrilling. We were so young, and eager to bring prosperity to our mortal kin. But we lived on for centuries, and were forced to watch the countless people we grew fond of and even loved pass away, and we could do nothing about it. We were born to bring balance to the chaotic auras of all life, but not even death seemed within our control. For beings brought out of mortality, we sympathized far more than the pure beings that had preceded us._

_Eventually, my friends grew too weary of caring for things that only slipped through their fingers like sand. They grew hard, callous. They began cutting off contact with humanity, or became so singularly focused on certain individuals they ignored everything else. One by one they stopped maintaining the auras._  

_The rivers and streams began drying up, and crops began to die without our careful attention. With that, the livestock grew too weak to prosper and people were dying of starvation. I tried to keep it going, tried to maintain the auras by myself, but I could not do it on my own._

_I began traveling to villages disguised as one of you to teach the people ways to prosper without our aid, and it worked, to an extent. Still, I could not reach everyone. Their anger towards the gods was growing with every passing day my fellow Emperors shunned them. Those with more powerful auras began to recognize me, and those that did not try to kill me begged me to change things. I told them the limitations of my power, but that never made things any better. I was not strong enough on my own. I tried to get the other Emperors to recognize the plights of their people, but our leader, the strongest of us, refused me, and no one dared betray him._

_Our immortality came from our original sacrifice to the old gods. Since we were originally mortal, the god’s aura must be channeled into us through items of power, tokens of our mortal forms that act as a gateway between the realms. We kept them safe within the original shrine of our spiritual birth where our auras could harmonize and pull strength from each other, but I was careless. When the people discovered my sympathies, they knew that my overwhelming aura would not reject them. They broke into the shrine and stole my power from me. I felt them do it, but I could not fight the hold they had over me._

_The humans took my power and attempted to use it to destroy the bonds that tied my own companions to the spiritual realm, but they did not know the extent of our abilities. When taken from us forcefully, the potential gained is only a fraction of what is possible. When given, our human vessels can perform miracles on par with our own. But they had stolen it, and as a result they stood no chance against the gods they sought to destroy._

_I tried to beg my companions for mercy on the humans, but their rage was too much. Our leader put an end to everything before I could stop him. He broke my token, sealed away my aura as punishment, and buried me away deep within this prison where I could no longer cause any more harm. I begged and pleaded for them to reconsider, but it was no use, as you can see._

_So many people died, all because of my carelessness. I cannot imagine what the world has been like since my imprisonment._

 

Silence falls upon them. Kagami trails his fingers across the rope barrier idly, trying to process everything he had heard. “I… I’d heard the legend of the Emperors of Light, but never this part. I-I didn’t know. ”

The phantom laughs sourly. _It is unlikely that anyone knows. No doubt they erased any trace of my shame from existence the day they locked me in here._ It takes a moment to calm itself before continuing. _Please, how many years has it been since they trapped me here? How long have I been apart from the waking world._  

“When were you locked away?”

_Year 43 of the Kouzou Dynasty, the 193rd year of the Teikou Era._

Kagami thinks back long and hard to what his mother had once taught him. He recalls the various dynasties and eras, lists them in reverse order. The memory comes to him with a chill of sudden realization. “Almost three hundred years ago,” he says, stunned, head reeling. 

A shock of pain runs along Kagami’s spine and straight through his heart. He inhales sharply and feels hot tears prickle at the corners of his eyes and he wrenches them shut painfully against the wave of emotion. His body huddles over on itself and he feels anguish flow through him like icy black water as dry sobs wrack his frame. 

_Three hundred years_ , the phantom gasps around each choked inhale. _They left me here for three hundred years._

Kagami crouches in silent shock, mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of something to say. “I’m sorry,” is all he manages to get out.

_I… No._ The voice seems to steel its wavering conviction. _Please,_ it says. _Please tell me, what has happened all of this time since then?_

The pain begins to subside, nothing more than a dull throb by the time he speaks. “I don’t know where to begin,” Kagami admits. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

_The other Emperors._ The phantom bites out, a flare of anger lashing out from within the grief. _What happened to them?_

“They lost,” Kagami says plainly. 

The phantom goes silent, all emotion falling away into nothing. He continues before it can say anything. “I don’t know how it happened for sure, because I only know the stories my mother told me.”

_Even the most fanciful stories have some basis in reality,_ it says after a beat.

Kagami continues. “Well, the version I know starts with a group of villagers who sought to take the gods—I mean, _your—_ power. I don’t think this version ever said why or how, just that out of greed they acted against the gods and the Emperors ended their rebellion with lethal force. They punished the rest of humanity by bringing great misfortune to the land. Floods and droughts and all sorts of bad news.” He takes a shuddering inhale against the wave of regret that washes across his spine. “But somehow they gained the upper hand. Something had changed with the Emperors, and after years people began to notice. They were weaker, more bark than bite, as if they were hiding something.”

_Yes,_ the spirit mutters. _With my connection to them gone, their bonds must have weakened. It would have thrown their auras into minor instability. Dulled their senses._

“That’d make sense,” he says, hand toying with the rope barrier as he tries to process the information. “Well, in their weakened state, their tokens were taken from the shrine. All five were scattered away from each other so they could not draw power from the shrine where they were born or from the others’ auras, I think. After that, the five lords who had come together to sever their powers came up with another idea. At the threat of destroying their tokens and sending everything into disorder, they bargained with the Emperors have a share of their power.”

_Impossible_ , it hisses. _Our tokens cannot be so easily broken by mortal hands. And they would never give in like that. They wouldn’t…_ It’s voice trailed off in contemplation. 

“You’d think, right,” Kagami huffed, laughing weakly. “But that’s not all of it. The legend says that the leader of the Emperors posed a challenge to the other gods at this point. They would each chose a lord to join with, forming pacts with each of the five noble families, and their power would run within their bloodline as long as the items were held safe in their grasp. The lords themselves had been fighting for supremacy amongst themselves for decades. The Crimson Emperor challenged the other gods to continue their war against each other with newfound power with the intent to unify the country under one ruler.” He runs a hand over his face tiredly. “The other Emperors agreed, and the five Great Lords came into power. They’ve been fighting amongst each other ever since. A family will come into power, rule for a while, but never for long. There’s always another uprising, another rebellion. It never ends.”

_Fighting for the past three hundred years._ The phantom is quiet for a moment. _Is that what happened to your family?_

Kagami brings his knees up to his chest. He wraps his arms around them loosely, careful not to upset his sore right leg. “Yeah. We lived in what used to be neutral territory. No one had ever really come to claim it, since it was far away from the capital and other major towns, so they caught us off guard.”

When it speaks next, its voice is frighteningly calm, but it bites like acid. _Which one of them was it?_

“I don’t know,” Kagami admits. He rests his chin on his good knee. “I wish I did though. I was too young at the time to understand what was happening. My mom stayed behind to try to fight them off. She had a really strong aura, the strongest anyone in the village’d seen.”

_Like mother, like son_ , it says, voice much kinder than before. 

Kagami offers a weak, thankful smile, before he continues. “She was the only person I’ve ever seen able to make physical barriers out of it. She was… she was amazing. And she thought she could hold the soldiers off with it I guess.” He sighs deeply. “I always kind of hoped she was still alive, you know? But when I came back years later, the whole place was a wasteland, completely razed to the ground.” He ducks his eyes down to press into the hard points of his kneecaps to stop the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes again. “I don’t think anyone who stayed back made it out.”

_And so now you seek out revenge?_

His face scrunches up in thought as he looks up. “Well, kind of? Nah, not really,” he offers weakly, gnawing on his bottom lip. “I mean it’s all been one big messed-up cycle of revenge until now, and that hasn’t solved anything. More than ‘revenge’ or whatever, I just want it all to end.”

A single warm tendril snakes up the side of his neck, stroking along the sensitive skin behind his ear as if it were a hand cradling his jaw. _That’s very altruistic of you._  

“I’m not trying to be heroic or anything,” he mumbles, bringing a hand up to rub at the tickling warmth as he feels his face color. “I’m just tired of hearing about everything that’s been happening while not doing anything to really fix it.”

_You seek an end to the terror brought on by my previous companions._ Kagami nods curtly, eyes hard and focused ahead of him. A dangerous tingle of magic darts across his skin in playful enticement _. Then it would seem that both of our objectives overlap, do they not?_

Kagami’s head turns towards the shrine beside him, acting on its own. Probably the phantom’s will, he thinks. The worn edges of the wards on the door wave gently as that spark of magic passes across the back of his neck and up around his ear, where it only gives greater power to the quiet whisper of the phantom. 

_Would you care to make that deal?_

A shudder runs through him, but this time it is all his own. Kagami feels himself slowly rise to his feet and pass underneath the barrier as he stands. “How do I know I can trust you,” he breathes as he cautiously ventures forward.

_You don’t,_ the phantom says. Kagami can feel warm pressure at the dip of his back, like hands urging him forward. _I can ask you to, but that decision is not mine to make. You’ve seen my memories, and I promise you that, unbidden as they were, they were the truth. What you choose to do with that knowledge is up to you to decide._ As if confirming that, the pressure at his back relents. 

His decision. The prickle of doubt at the back of his mind tempts him to turn around and flee, but curiosity presses him forward. As he ascends the last of the short stone steps at the foot of the entrance, he lifts a hand to rest on the faint outline of the wooden sliding-door. The wards burn faintly under his fingertips as he digs his nails through them and into the crease of the door. With some strain in his weakened arms he pries the door aside along its old, worn track.

The inner shrine is empty, save for one thing. In the center of the room is a stone figure, protruding directly out of the limestone floor. The sleek stone glints in the light, and Kagami’s eyes trace over the statue slowly. 

Its legs are bent beneath it, arms cast out at its sides and bound by thick shackles, and back bent convexly in defeat. The head is bent downwards, fringe curtaining the figure’s face, but a single stone eye shows through, frozen in time. Blank and empty, and yet still defiant as it catches Kagami’s gaze. 

Before he can do anything else, the voice returns, thrumming across his temples. _Since my companions broke my token and sealed away the connection between me and my aura, I can only reach my true potential when bonded to another being. The aura of that being should allow me to reconnect with my own as long as we remain completely in sync. Considering the circumstances, what this means is that you will become my new token._

_That is the deal I wish to make with you. If you choose to free me, you_ **_will_ ** _assume that role._

A single crisp paper ward runs down the statue’s forehead and flutters lightly as if in a whispering breeze Kagami cannot feel. He takes it lightly between the pads of his fingers and runs them over it in soft, contemplative circles. _Are you sure you want to make that choice?_

Is he? There’s a short breath of silence. 

Kagami smirks wryly, “Nowhere else to go but forward.”

He rips the ward away.

A small flurry of wind bursts out around the statue and retreats briefly back in on itself before suddenly exploding outwards, sending Kagami hurtling back towards the shrine’s entrance. He yells and his hands dart out as he scrambles to find purchase on the frame of the sliding door before the violent wind shoots him out completely. He glances back behind him, watching as the paper wards plastered across every inch of the door rustle aggressively before flying off one by one. The straw rope barrier begins to unravel and disintegrate. With all the strength he can muster he pulls himself into the room and braces his back against the sturdy wooden frame to catch his breath. 

The eye of the sudden whirlwind is centered around the stone statue, and he can faintly see it starting to fracture into spider-web cracks. The room grows dark as if the wind is sucking the light out of everything, but in the center of the storm he can see it. A faint flicker of blue light. 

Kagami braces his feet on the floor, left hand tight around the doorframe, and reaches out into the storm. His eyes water against the upheaval of dust, but he can still see the light, so calm in the middle of such a violent gale, and he knows he has to reach it. Bits of wood and rock pelt his body painfully, but he squints his eyes and stretches himself to the fullest. The light dances right at the edge of his fingers, but he just can’t reach it, no matter how hard he tries in his current state. Gritting his teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut, braces his good foot against the wall, and propels himself forward. His hand reaches out blindly for the blue flame.

Just as he feels his fingers close around the gentle warmth of it, a small hand encircles his own. 

The wind abruptly falls away, and everything is silent. Without the air beneath him, Kagami begins to fall forward, but he is steadied by another hand, touch light but grip strong against his shoulder. He gets his feet beneath him and looks back up. 

Before him stands a young man who looks about the same age as him, draped in fine blue and white robes that dance lightly in the last lingering vestiges of the violent storm. He stands about a head shorter than Kagami, and when he lifts his gaze he can see the hauntingly clear eyes that match the powder-blue of his hair. When those eyes flick up to catch his own, Kagami feels his heart stutter out. The young man’s lips curve up subtly, and Kagami’s not sure how a simple smile can be so soft and yet so dangerously foreboding at the same time.

“Hello, Kagami Taiga,” the young man says. Hearing the voice from before ring out in bright clarity outside of his own head causes Kagami’s heart to weakly flutter back to life. 

Kagami opens his mouth to respond, but his voice dies out on the tip of his tongue. The phantom tips his head to the side, eyes sparkling mischievously as he waits for what Kagami has to say. “I…,” he starts, ducking his eyes down and raising his free hand to rub nervously at the back of his neck where he can still feel the lingering tendrils of warmth. “We’ve been talking all of this time but I still don’t know what to call you,” he laughs sheepishly, ears coloring slightly. He tries not to dwell on the fact that the phantom has not let go of his other hand yet, fingers warm and sparking against the rough callouses on his palm.

The phantom’s lips curve up ever so slightly at the corners, and he runs his thumb carefully over the rise and fall of Kagami’s knuckles. As he speaks, he watches his thumb trace the span of the redhead’s hand with thoughtful curiosity. “I have had many titles, as you know. The Idol of the Azure, the Sixth Miracle, the Great Betrayer, and so on and so forth. However, none of those seem quite right, now. I think I would prefer that you call me by the first name ever given to me.”

Kagami’s skin thrums with nervous energy. “Your first name?”

“Yes, my human name, the one given to me by my birth parents before any of this happened.” His gaze trails up Kagami’s arm and traces the honed curve of his biceps, the plateau of his broad shoulders, the sharp cut of his jaw, inch by inch. “It only seems right that we should address each other as such. As equals. Especially now that you have accepted the terms of our agreement.”

The redhead feels his lips twitch in dangerous excitement. “What was it,” he breathes, pulse racing through him.

The phantom finally looks him in the eye again and Kagami feels a shock of powerful magic shoot through him, setting all of his nerves alight. “You can call me Kuroko Tetsuya.”  

When Kagami repeats the name to himself in idle wonder, it tastes golden on his tongue.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oof that was a long one ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و This is basically the prologue/first part of a much larger AU idea I've been fooling around with for a while that might have future parts included if I get the motivation/inspiration to write them! 
> 
> You can find me at my main blog at devicing.tumblr.com, or at my woefully barren writing blog at wingship.tumblr.com (which is where I originally posted this a while back). I might post some background info and more world-building there if there's enough push for that info.
> 
> If you have any questions, concrit, or if you just want to leave a nice comment, I'd really appreciate it! 
> 
> Oh, and for those wondering: 幼 is the character for "childhood/childish" while 幻 is the character for "phantom," and they are only one stroke apart! The more you know!


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